


Home to you

by Lamenta



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fenders Family Secret Santa 2015, Fluff and Angst, Holiday Fic Exchange, Humor, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Satinalia, post DA2 kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamenta/pseuds/Lamenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for akaiba, whom I had the honor to play Secret Santa for this year °u°  I hope this comes close to what you have been asking for, since I did have a lot of choices of which way to go hahaha. I was sadly hit by something of a writer's block and...no matter how hard I tried, the smut wouldn't happen ;u; for which I apologize <3</p>
<p>Merry Christmas, Sweets!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Akaiba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaiba/gifts).



He watched the snowflakes dance, pirouetting gracefully in the air, sparkling cheerfully, before gently floating to the ground. The soft, white cover on Hightown’s streets shimmered in the light various lanterns spent and occasionally, he would stretch out one foot and touch the bare sole to it, enjoying the coldness and the way it crunched between his toes. The cold weather was a welcome change after spending months in the hot, humid climate of the Imperium and beyond.

 

Every mansion and estate in Hightown had been decorated for the festivities and the elf took in the sight of red ribbons, golden ornaments, fir and mistletoe, of lanters placed on window sills and flickering candles. He could hear people sing inside their homes; mothers, fathers and their children, relatives that were visiting.

 

Satinalia was not something he, or his kin in general, celebrated, but Fenris had come to enjoy the quiet, festive days, the decent food and expensive wine Hawke would serve at his estate every year. He’d come to enjoy being surrounded by those he called friends, exchanging gifts and pleasantries; sitting around the warm fireside, Hawke trying his best to play the lute. Listening to Varric telling stories, their bellies warmed by wine.

 

It had been the right decision to return to Kirkwall, just in time for Satinalia. Fenris wouldn’t have thought he’d miss this city, or even consider it home. Kirkwall was not exactly a place one would miss – it was a shit hole, compared to Minrathous, Val Royeaux or even Denerim, which he’d visited once, accompanying Danarius to buy more slaves in the alienage. Most of Kirkwall was poor, its citizens lurking in the dark, Lowtown dangerous and Darktown stank; Hightown filled with too many rich people who had a too high opinion of themselves, oppressing those who were less fortunate. But still, Fenris had spent the greater part of his life as a free man in this city; he’d inhabited Danarius’ run-down mansion and made it his as he waited for his former master to come get him. It was home now, more than any other place Fenris knew or remembered, and what made it home was not just the city itself, but a handful of people in it who he held dear in his heart.

 

“Well, well…look what the east wind carried home.”

 

Fenris flinched in surprise when he found a tall, dark shadow next to him, feeling incredibly small in the way too big fur coat Hawke had given him before Fenris had escaped outside to get some fresh air. But then, he had always felt small next to the taller mage. Even though Anders’ composure was hunched most of the time, he still seemed to tower above them all, with the exception of Hawke.

 

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Fenris murmured, wincing internally at how rude of a reply that was to a man he hadn’t seen in almost a year. A man he’d thought of during this time more often than he cared to admit. The one man he’d been looking forward to meet the most when he’d returned and yet, now as they finally faced each other, the kind words he’d carefully chosen in his mind failed him.

 

“I wasn’t, until Bodahn came to my clinic and told me you have returned.” Anders took another step closer and Fenris took in the sight of the other man. The strawberry blond hair was much longer than Fenris remembered it to be, falling gently on the mage’s shoulder. The lantern next to the entrance to Hawke’s estate didn’t spend enough light to get a good view at him, but Fenris enjoyed the way amber eyes gleamed in the semi-dark. He looked tired; Anders always looked tired when Fenris wasn’t around to make sure he got enough sleep. He also seemed to have aged more than he should have during the time the elf had been away from Kirkwall. There were wrinkles around his eyes that made him look older than he was, but also more attractive than ever. Anders still wore the same feathered coat and boots, though both had been patched a couple times since they had last seen each other.

 

“So, you came here to welcome me home?” Fenris asked, lips quirking into a half-smile.

 

“Is that so hard to believe?”

 

It had been almost a year, but seeing the mage again rekindled desire and the strong sense of belonging that Fenris had originally escaped from. As they locked gazes, amber eyes told Fenris the mage was glad to see him alive and well. They told of many sleepless nights and months spent worrying; they told Fenris everything he had refused to hear and see.

And his scent… _kaffas_ , that scent…

 

“I suppose it is not,” Fenris agreed quietly.

 

“Have you found what you were looking for?” Anders leaned his back against the heavy wooden door. From inside, they could hear Hawke attempting to sing and they both cringed and chuckled when an obviously drunk Isabela joined in, followed by the mabari howling. Fenris couldn’t quite tell if the dog meant to sing along or complain about their terrible voices, but it was amusing.

 

“I am not sure I was actually looking for something in particular,” the elf murmured. “Other than the satisfaction of spilling slavers blood.”

 

“Varric did receive reports of someone leaving a trail of slaver corpses,” Anders agreed with a smile. “Did you go to Minrathous?”

 

“I am no fool. I would not stand a chance against a group of magisters and the slaves are not yet ready to rise and revolt. A single man can’t fight an entire Imperium to make a change.”

 

Anders hummed thoughtfully, extending a hand to catch a snowflake in his palm. Fenris watched with interest when it didn’t melt away immediately. Instead, it froze in the mage’s palm, tiny ice crystals adding to it until was the size of the mage’s hand. There was a dreamy smile on the mage’s lips and Fenris suddenly had to fight the urge to reach out and press his fingertips against them, just to feel their soft texture and warmth.

 

“A single man,” Anders murmured as he let the snowflake in his hand melt away, “brought a change upon Kirkwall and parts of the Free Marches by blowing up a Chantry and making a statement for the rights of mages. I don’t think you can actually imagine how nice it is to stroll Kirkwall’s streets, with my staff on my back, visible to anyone, and to not have to be afraid to be struck down any moment.”

 

Fenris snorted. He still vividly remembered that fateful day; sometimes, he believed he could still smell the smoke, could still hear the terrified cries. He had expected to feel anger at the mage’s actions; instead, what he had experienced was acceptance. To Anders, the Chantry was what the Imperium, Danarius, was to Fenris and he understood the desire to see it destroyed. Even though he had never told Hawke, Fenris had been grateful that their friend has not ended Anders’ life, though the mage had practically begged for it; grateful that they had stood together to face Sebastian when he had argued their decision.

  
“You were gone for almost a year. Why are you out here instead of celebrating with your friends?” the mage asked.

 

“I was on my own all these months,” Fenris answered. “I began to feel crowded and needed a moment to myself.”

 

“Ah.” Anders nodded. “I suppose that’s my cue to leave.”

 

The elf’s brows furrowed. “You are not coming in?”

 

“I already told you, I originally hadn’t planned to come here at all. I only came because I wanted to see _you_ , you dense elf. To assure myself you are well and not missing an eye or a limb.”

 

Fenris huffed out a laugh and pulled the fur coat tighter around his slender body. It was starting to freeze and he could see Anders trying not to shiver. He wanted to reach out and take those big, slender hands into his, rubbing them until they were warm; he wanted to wrap his arms around Anders’ body and just hold on tight, like he had done so many times in the past; devour that mouth that was carrying a small pout right now.

 

He wanted…

 

“I should go back to the clinic,” Anders murmured as the stared at the blanket of snow at their feet. “They will soon douse the lanterns and I’m not a friend of total darkness.”

 

“I think you should come in,” Fenris replied. “There’s good food and wine to be had. Hawke will be mad if he hears you came by and didn’t say hello.”

 

“Well, don’t tell him I was here then.” Anders smiled widely at the elf. Even in the almost dark, Fenris could see it was fake, the cheerfulness in Anders’ features nothing but a mask. _I know why you ran away_ , his eyes told the elf and even the fur coat could not keep away the cold feeling that took hold of him.

 

“It was merely a beautiful idea,” Fenris blurted out before he could stop himself, “you and I.”

 

Anger flitted across Anders’ features for a second, followed by resignation. “Everything in my life is nothing more than a beautiful idea. That’s the one thing that hasn’t changed,” he agreed quietly. Slender hands reached for the elf, grabbing the thick fur coat and pulled Fenris close. Their mouths met, gentle and unhurried and Fenris didn’t want to fight it, never wanted to fight it again. Lips parted, their warm breaths mingling, condensing in the cold night air.

 

They parted too soon for Fenris’ liking, his hands reaching for the mage, but Anders proved to have quick reflexes and took a step back.

 

“Mistletoe,” Anders explained, a little breathless, and pointed to the branch of green that hung above their heads. Fenris squinted at it as Anders took another step backward, then another. “Happy Satinalia, Fenris. Welcome home.”

 

Fenris took a deep breath, shoulders slumping while Anders seemed to seemed to merge with the dark and its shadows. Many years of needing to hide had made the mage surprisingly good at it, the elf had to give him that, though his keen elven eyes could still make out the taller man’s silhouette as he turned to leave.

 

“I’ve travelled Nevarra and crossed the Silent Plains,” Fenris spoke up, making Anders pause his steps. “Did you know the Nevarrans believe that when a dead soul crosses the Fade, it displaces a Fade spirit?”

 

Anders’ brows furrowed.

 

“They mummify their dead in order to provide safe hosts for these spirits and place them in crypts,” Fenris continued, voice but a murmur. “A task entrusted to a secretive order of mages, I believe.”

 

The mage sighed quietly. “Mortalitasi,” he replied in kind. “I’ve heard of them, but never seen their work.”

 

“It is impressive, I have to admit,” Fenris said with a small nod. “I could not help but think you would have enjoyed seeing their work, enjoyed speaking to them and teach them about the Fade spirit you, a living vessel, host. Or maybe you would have enjoyed going to Cumberland instead, visit the College of Magi. Speak to the First Enchanters, or the Grand Enchanter themselves about the plight of mages. The Grand Enchanter does represent the mages to the Chantry, don’t they?”

 

Anders’ lips pursed. He was growing confused with each passing moment, Fenris could tell. “Yes?”

 

Fenris glanced at his feet. “I crossed the Silent Plains as I followed the Imperial Highway toward Tevinter. The road is still as impressive as I remembered it. Ruins, abandoned settlements…so many old relics still found in those places that I believe you would have enjoyed to study.” He cleared his throat. “I made it as far as to the southern borders of the Anderfels. I spent three nights just looking at Weisshaupt from the distance, remembering everything I’ve ever learned about the Grey Warden order; remembering that you are a Grey Warden, too, deserted or not. I was surprised to find their headquarters are still inhabited.”

 

“I do not consider myself a Grey Warden any longer,” Anders said with a  shake of his head. “I don’t think I still have the right to and I wasn’t a particularly good one, I suppose. All that’s left is a distant memory of a time where I was able to consider myself safe, possibly a free man as well, and the effects of the taint that are no longer as strong as they used to be, since joining with Justice.”

 

“You will always be one of them,” Fenris objected. “And the Weisshaupt Fortress, even from the distance, is impressive.”

 

Another sigh and Anders stepped closer again. “Why are you telling me all this, Fenris?”

 

Fenris closed the distance between them, relieved when Anders did not try to avoid their closeness once again. He reached for the mage’s hands and held them tight, pulling them beneath his fur coat to warm them. “So many times during my travels, I found things I believed you’d like to see as well.”

 

Anders smiled sadly. “Surprising, considering that the main reason for you leaving Kirkwall was to get _away_ from me.”

 

“Months ago, I would have agreed,” Fenris admitted, gently rubbing the mage’s hands. “But becoming painfully aware that you were absent made me realize that it wasn’t _you_ I was trying to get away from. Merely from emotions I couldn’t handle whenever I was close to you.”

 

Fenris let go of the mage’s hands, allowed them to search till he felt the buckles of Anders’ coat beneath his fingertips. Let them wander underneath until he felt cotton, the warmth of the other man’s skin beneath the fabric. Anders’ body shifted at the unexpected contact, lowering his head until his warm breath ghosted over Fenris forehead. Gentle fingers pushed away strands of hair as white as the snow around them, revealing those three ridiculous – in Fenris’ opinion – lyrium dots on his forehead; equally gentle lips followed those fingers, pressing a lingering kiss to them. It caused them to tingle and Fenris closed his eyes, feeling comforted by the contact.

 

“Wasn’t it you who told me but a moment ago that this, us, was merely a beautiful idea?” Anders murmured.

 

“You kissed me in response,” Fenris pointed out. “You did it again, just now.”

 

“Mistletoe.” Anders pulled away once again and Fenris grew frustrated. “It’s what people do – kiss each other if they happen to stand under a mistletoe.”

 

“And that would be the only reason, mage?”

 

“I’m not the one who left, elf. Without a word, I might add.”

 

Fenris opened his eyes and looked up, gazing right into a pair of amber eyes. “You are bitter,” he realized. “I have hurt you.”

 

Behind Anders’ tall frame, it was getting darker. Fenris listened to the heavy footsteps of the man who doused the lanterns every night; he had a bad limp and only one good eye left, a sick wife and no children to care for them both. Things he’d learned from the mage, who treated them both in his clinic regularly. Fenris admired that man for still being able to smile, still offering a kind word to those in need. Many times for Fenris, when he’d stumbled across the city, drunk and angry, in the past. The old man had every reason to be bitter, but he didn’t let it color his words or judgment.

 

“And let me guess,” Anders said, distracting Fenris’ from his thoughts, “I shouldn’t be surprised, right?”

 

“I chose my words poorly,” the elf apologized gently. “I am unfamiliar with how to handle…such relationships. I took so long just to learn how to be egoistic and care for no one but myself. Afterwards, I learned and came to care for the people I consider my friends. I have yet to learn how to treat a lover right.”

  
This time, it was Fenris who grabbed the other man by his coat, pulling him in for a kiss. A kiss lasting for as long as they both had breath left in their lungs, until they grew dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the intensity of emotions poured into this connection of their lips. When they broke apart, he could feel Anders tremble in his hold and pulled him closer, wrapping them both into Hawke’s fur coat. Long arms wrapped around his middle, Anders buried his face into the elf’s hair and Fenris knew, at the very least _hoped_ , the mage would forgive him.

 

“I missed you,” Anders let him know.

 

“And I you,” Fenris assured. “It was the main reason for me to return to Kirkwall. Your absence became unbearable.”

 

“I’m still angry with you.”

 

Fenris chuckled into the mage’s feather coat and tilted his head enough that his lips could graze the hollow of Anders’ throat, pleased when he heard the blond’s breath hitch. “Then I shall endeavor to make it up to you until you are angry no longer.”

 

Anders huffed out a laugh at those words, arms tightening around Fenris just a fraction more. “That might take a lifetime. Or, you know, what’s left of mine. I’m excellent at sulking.”

 

Fenris rolled his eyes. “Very well. We shall –“

 

The sound of heavy boots on tiles made Fenris perk and squint at the door to Hawke’s mansion. There was no mistaking Hawke’s footsteps and Fenris realized Hawke must have gotten worried, seeing how long Fenris had been outside now.

 

“Hawke,” he murmured into Anders’ skin.

 

“What?”

 

“He’s coming.”

 

Fenris pulled away quickly. The look of disbelief and disappointment on Anders’ face barely got the chance to last for a second. Fenris moved fast, letting the fur coat fall off his shoulders while one of his hands already reached for Anders’, grabbing it.

 

“Quick now,” the elf hissed and pulled the mage along, leading them away from the estate in a quick run. He heard Hawke call for him as he rushed around the next corner, Anders’ hand still tightly held by his own.

 

“Why are we running away from Hawke?” Anders gasped when they finally slowed their steps. Fenris could already see the silhouette of his mansion and felt excitement. A distinct feeling of being home. He wouldn’t have thought that something connected to his past would actually make him happy one day.

 

“If Hawke had found us on his doorstep, he would have asked you to come in. You would have refused, he would have _carried_ you inside if he had to,” Fenris explained. “You would have been given food, wine, asked a bunch of questions, Hawke would have sulked because you originally refused his invitation, as he does _every_ year and we would have been stuck with all our friends for a few hours at least.”

 

Anders’ brows furrowed. “Why is that a bad thing, all of a sudden?”

 

“Because we’ve been apart for a year, because I don’t want to share you with our friends right now, because I need to be alone with you.” The words left Fenris’ mouth in a rush. Anders’ eyes went almost comically wide. “Because I said I’ll make my mistake up to you.” He sighed loudly. “And this is why we ran away from Hawke.”

 

Anders smiled. “Alright.”

  
“Alright?”

 

The mage shrugged. “You presented me with very good arguments. Alright.”

 

 

His mansion hadn’t changed. The air was still stuffy as they stepped into the foyer; there were still mushrooms growing out of the floor and a moss-covered skeleton greeting him. Danarius’ portrait still dangled from the same rusty nail and Fenris began to wonder just how much longer it would take until it finally dropped. He took it all in, content to be back, marveling how much he’d missed this place without realizing it until now.

 

The only surprise awaiting him was his room. His bed was freshly made. There was a fire crackling in the fireside, warming the room. Fenris glanced at the man next to him, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

 

“My guess would be someone figured you’d like to sleep in a clean bed and with a comfortable temperature in your room, after they heard you have returned?” Anders suggested, attempting to look as innocent as possible.

 

“Someone?”

 

“Well, it wasn’t me, since I _am_ angry at you. I suspect Hawke asked Bodahn for this.”

 

Fenris smiled. “You’ve never been really good at lying, Anders,” he murmured as he reached for the mage’s coat, knowing hands unclasping the buckles easily. He frowned when he found his wrists held tightly by the mage.

 

“Still angry at you, Fenris,” Anders informed him, though the amused look in his eyes belied the statement. “Not getting naked for you tonight.”

 

The elf let go of the coat, his hands relaxing in Anders’ hold. “Very well,” he agreed, though it was with regret.

 

Anders chuckled and gave Fenris a gentle push, sending the elf stumbling across the room and toward his small bed. A bed they had often shared in the past, despite the narrow space it offered. One expectant look and Fenris lay down on it, grunting when Anders climbed on top and planted himself into the elf’s lap. Fingertips traced scratches and dents in the elf’s armor that were new to the mage, obtained after Fenris had left Kirkwall. It was like Anders was able to read them, like just touching them told the mage how Fenris received each damage, how difficult the fight had been, how often an opponent had merely gotten a lucky hit.

 

Big, slender hands worked on removing the elf’s armor then, piece by piece before caressing, searchingly, over Fenris’ upper body, looking for injuries not fully healed yet or scars. The elf sighed, enjoying the feel of Anders’ hands against his skin, remembering the countless nights in which he had longed for this, curled up in his bedroll and cursing himself for being an idiot.

 

Anders moved on top of him. Fenris bit his lip at the friction against his groin when the mage’s mouth descended on his. The elf stopped worrying his lip in favor of returning the kiss properly but Anders pulled away before he had the chance.

 

“Am I to make it up to you by getting frustrated?” Fenris asked. Anders laughed and made short work of his coat, letting it join Fenris’ armor on the floor. Even though Anders had said he wasn’t going to get naked for Fenris, it didn’t stop the elf from reaching out, hands slipping beneath the mage’s holey shirt. Anders leaned into those hands as they caressed up his back and sighed.

 

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you better still be here,” the mage warned as he untied his shirt. It slid off his shoulders just as Fenris’ hands reached them. Anders shook his arms to get rid of that piece of clothing alltogether as the elf’s palms continued their path down his chest, fingertips ghosting over nipples, dark against the blond’s pale skin. “If I wake up and find you gone again, be assured I’ll come after you and kick your ass.”

 

“I am almost tempted, just because I’d love to find out what that entails,” Fenris teased.

 

“Fenris, by the Maker, I _swear_ …”

 

“I will be here, Anders.” His hands reached the mage’s pants, slowly unlacing them at the front. “When you open your eyes, you will find me right next to you. Maybe I will still be asleep…maybe I’ll be watching you sleep.” Fenris’ lips pursed. “Or maybe you will wake up to me bestowing kisses on your entire body.” His knuckles grazed the mage’s cock in its confines and Anders’ hips gave a weak jerk at the sensation. “I promise.”

 

Anders looked doubtful.

 

“Consider it a gift, mage,” Fenris offered. “It is Satinalia, after all, and this promise is my gift to you. Where I come from, you do not go back on a promise.”

 

Anders’ lips twitched into a smile. “Where I come from, a man’s word still counts for something.”

 

Fenris’ own lips offered an answering smile. “Happy Satinalia, mage.”


End file.
